The Mercury

Pearl Harbour attack’s almost-certain suicide mission

- Michael Ruane

THE tattered Pearl Harbour survivor looks every bit of 78 years old, with weathered skin, rusty bones and the faded “US Navy” emblem the old bird got before the war.

Gray from age and years in service, the veteran of December 7, 1941, sits with other World War II antiques, weary and in need of attention.

But with the 75th anniversar­y of the 1941 attack this week, and commemorat­ions scheduled in Hawaii and around the country, this survivor, like most who were there that day, has a story.

The ungainly Navy airplane at the US National Air and Space Museum’s Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, Virginia, is one of the few original US aircraft in existence that flew against the Japanese armada that day.

Then painted silver and orange-yellow, with a bright green tail and red trim, it was an unlikely combatant.

Designed as a small airliner – a “baby clipper” – it was unarmed and part of a unit called Utility Squadron One, which hauled mail, sailors and Navy photograph­ers around the Hawaiian Islands.

It had window curtains and a restroom with porcelain fixtures. Its top speed was just over 161km per hour.

With Pearl Harbour a scene of death and devastatio­n that Sunday morning, Plane No 1063 – its insignia a pelican carrying a mailbag – was ordered to seek out the enemy.

For armament, the 28-year-old pilot, Ensign Wesley Hoyt Ruth, and his five-man crew were issued three World War I-era rifles.

Their task: Report the location of the six Japanese aircraft carriers, two battleship­s, assorted escort ships and hundreds of enemy planes involved in the attack.

“This is going to be a one-way trip,” Ruth later said he thought. But it wasn’t. Seventy-five years later, the Sikorski JRS-1 Catalina amphibian flying boat, with its hull for the water and big tyres for the runway, sits in the centre’s restoratio­n hangar, a venerable witness to the event that helped create modern America.

The Pearl Harbour attack, which plunged the US into World War II, killed about 2 400 Americans, wounded about 1 100, and destroyed ships, planes and facilities.

“The fact that (Ruth) got out and got back is… absolutely amazing,” said Smithsonia­n museum specialist Pat Robinson.

The plane would not have survived an encounter with the Japanese fleet, which it did not find, Robinson said.

It was lucky not to have been shot down by jumpy American anti-aircraft gunners when it returned to Pearl Harbour, he said.

And it was a miracle that it was saved from the postwar scrap heap.

“Somewhere, someone looking at the log books realised the significan­ce of the air plane, and where it had been” and alerted the Smithsonia­n, which retrieved it from military storage, Robinson said.

“It’s a huge deal, to have this here,” he said.

“It represents American involvemen­t in the Second World War. It was there when it started.”

Indeed, the airplane has a presence, and the Smithsonia­n would one day like to restore it. But other historic planes are in line ahead of it.

The Catalina is big, with the two huge propeller engines built into the wing above the fuselage, a hatch in the nose where a photograph­er could stand, and porthole-style windows.

The plane was constructe­d for the Navy in 1938 at the Sikorsky plant in Stratford, Connecticu­t. Inside, the curators found an old emergency water purificati­on kit and the rusted keys to a lock box in the radio compartmen­t.

The squadron was based on Ford Island, in the middle of Pearl Harbour, where the Navy’s doomed battleship­s were moored.

Ruth, the pilot, who later lived in the Washington area and taught at the Bullis School in Potomac, Maryland, was in his quarters on the island on the morning of the attack.

A seasoned aviator, “he could fly anything”, his son, Thomas A Ruth II, said recently.

A native of tiny DeSmet, South Dakota, he was having breakfast when the Japanese planes came roaring in. He thought for a moment that it might be a drill, until he saw them dropping bombs.

“Then I knew for sure that we were in for trouble,” he said.

He would survive the war, but a younger brother, Thomas, who was also a Navy pilot, was shot down and killed in the South Pacific in 1943. In videotaped accounts he gave over the years, Ruth said he grabbed his coat that morning, jumped into his convertibl­e and sped with the top down for the airstrip.

“I drove as fast as I could because I was concerned about getting strafed,” he said.

As he neared the runway, the battleship USS Arizona blew up less than half a kilometre away. Pellets of gunpowder, ejected from the blast, began to fall from the sky.

“It was snowing powder pellets about as large as my finger,” Ruth said in a talk he gave in 2011. They fell in and around his car.

Enemy

As the Japanese attack ended, the Americans wanted to locate the fleet from which the enemy planes had come.

Ruth was ordered to go find it. “You take the first plane, the JRS,” he said a senior officer told him.

According to Smithsonia­n records, he got into the plane with co-pilot Emery C “Pappy” Geise, 35, radioman Oscar W Benenfiel jr, plane captain Amos P Gallupe and two other sailors.

Before they left, the senior officer presented them with three old Springfiel­d rifles for protection. “We would have to shoot through the windows,” Ruth said.

He thought the chances of surviving were zero.

The brightly coloured plane took off and flew north, looking for the enemy. Hours went by.

“Every second in the air was fraught with anxiety, apprehensi­on, (and) anger,” a crewman on another search plane, recalled, according to Pearl Harbor historian Craig Nelson. “If ever there was a suicide mission, this was one.”

Ruth said he flew just beneath the clouds, so he could duck into the cloud cover if there was trouble.

He flew 400km to the north but saw nothing. He turned east for 16km, then headed back south toward Pearl Harbor. Still nothing.

Although the enemy fleet was still lurking north of Pearl Harbour, Ruth and his crew made no contact.

But then they had to get back to Ford Island without getting shot down by their comrades. Numerous American planes, historians record, were mistaken for the enemy and shot at by nervous Americans on the ground.

Again, Ruth and his men were lucky. They arrived unscathed.

Following the attack, the plane was moved to a base in California and later handed over to the forerunner of Nasa for testing purposes, Robinson said. After that it went into storage until its importance was noticed and it was given to the Smithsonia­n.

Ruth died aged 101 in Matthews, North Carolina, last year. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery in January.

For his actions at Pearl Harbour, he was given the Navy Cross, the service’s second-highest decoration for heroism.

“Although contact with the enemy meant almost certain destructio­n,” his citation reads, Ruth’s courage, airmanship and skill “were at all times inspiring and in keeping with the highest traditions of the US Naval Service.”– Washington Post

 ?? PICTURES: WASHINGTON POST ?? A Sikorsky Catalina JRS-1 flying boat sits in the restoratio­n hangar of the Smithsonia­n National Air and Space Museum in Chantilly, Virginia
PICTURES: WASHINGTON POST A Sikorsky Catalina JRS-1 flying boat sits in the restoratio­n hangar of the Smithsonia­n National Air and Space Museum in Chantilly, Virginia
 ??  ?? A drinking water kit is one of the items found on the flying boat at the Smithsonia­n museum
A drinking water kit is one of the items found on the flying boat at the Smithsonia­n museum

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